“I knew it!” Jo tapped her leg. “She’s been hit with a Brick!” She gave a soft hoot at her dumb joke, completely ignoring the look teenaged Vivien had called “the death glare.”
“Our combined age is over 150, so shut it, Jo.”
“Mmm.” It was her best attempt at shutting it.
Maggie pushed up, restless. “We should go see how we can help. Big day for the Summer House today.”
“Meet you down there,” Jo Ellen said. “I sure hope Eli’s holding up. I can’t believe someone else got the plywood he had on hold yesterday.”
“He said he’d have more this morning,” Maggie promised as she walked out. “My son is strong. A cat three storm to the east is not going to faze him.”
But one look at Eli on the back deck in filthy shorts and a filthier T-shirt, staring at enough plywood to build a house, stress on every feature and one hand fisted around his phone, and she knew that he was…fazed.
Beside him, on a stepladder, Jonah was attempting to wrestle a sheet of that wood into a pre-drilled track, battling with the wind that had definitely picked up. He was, Maggie noted, alone on the ladder. He was also alone on the entire Gulf-facing side of a house that had…too- many-to-count exposed windows.
Kate was up a level, on the balcony of Vivien’s room, in a baseball cap, hauling a roll of plastic sheeting. Emma was below her holding the bottom of a different ladder with both hands and an expression of teenage gravity. There was nobody else.
“Good morning, dear,” Maggie called.
Eli attempted—and failed—to give her a smile. “Morning, Mom.”
“Eli. This isn’t going to get done before we have to leave.”
“Had to wait for some supplies at Home Depot. Still need more.” He threw her a look. “You shouldn’t be out here. Best to stay inside and with Jo Ellen, but not in the living room because we need to bring the rest of the deck furniture in. We’ll get to the windows in your apartment later. I hope.”
Maggie studied her son, who looked like he hadn’t slept or stopped since last night’s meeting.
A squeaky and familiar sound rang out from the baby monitor on the table, making Jonah’s shoulders drop with a grunt.
“Already?” Jonah muttered. “Shortest nap in history.”
“I’ll get him,” Maggie said quickly. “Jo and I will stay out of your way, except to serve up food and cold drinks.”
Eli’s smile was real this time. “Thanks, Mom.”
Just as she turned to go inside, she heard Jonah make a small gasp, a sound every mother knew. The sound of an accident about to happen.
Whipping around, she saw the sheet of plywood had caught a gust of wind and twisted under Jonah’s hands. It tilted out away from the wall and swung sideways, pulling Jonah from the ladder.
Eli got there first. He dropped his phone, ducked under the slipping sheet, and braced it on his back with a shocking amount of strength. The plywood thudded against his shoulder blade. He took the impact without a sound. He held it long enough for Jonah to get a hand back on the top edge, and then, carefully, breathing through his nose, he and Jonah eased it back into the track and pinned it.
For a beat, nobody moved.
Eli pressed both hands flat on the ladder, head down, breathing.
“Dad,” Jonah said.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Fine.”
Neither one of them was fine. Maggie watched her son hold himself in place with quiet discipline, and Jonah fight the urge to crumble under the stress. They were both about to break. Kate leaned over the balcony railing, her face pale.
“Are you two okay?”
“Fine,” they said in unison.
“You need help,” she cried.
